A Tragic Victory
by MusicFilmRocks
Summary: What would happen if the rebellion had failed, and the Hunger Games had continued until the 4th Quarter Quell? This is my take on the 100th Annual Hunger Games. To make it interesting, I've included all 7 main Victorious characters. Will one of them be the winner? I know this has been done before, but hopefully my take on it is enjoyable. Rated T for...you know..death and violence.
1. The Dreaded Announcement

** Hey! With a one-shot and a multi-chapter story under my belt, I decided that I really wanted to try my hand at inventing my own Hunger Games! This is going to be my take on the 100****th**** Annual Hunger Games, or 4****th**** Quarter Quell. I know this has been done before. How is mine going to be special, you ask? Well, I'm pretty sure I'll never get over the cancellation of Victorious. So, I decided to put all 7 main characters in my Hunger Games! I'm sorry to those of you who are upset that I didn't take tribute submissions. Anyway, let the story begin!**

_Trina Vega (18), District 1_

I sit at the dinner table with my parents and my sister. We are unusually quiet during the meal, but that is to be expected. Today is the day our President announces the 4th Quarter Quell, and we are all extremely nervous. Ever since the rebellion the started during the previous Quarter Quell failed miserably, the Hunger Games have continued just as they used to. For the last Quarter Quell, previous victors were selected as tributes. Who knows what will happen this year?

The thing that most worries me about the upcoming reaping is the safety of my sister, Tori. She's 17, so she still has one more reaping after this one if she doesn't get chosen this year. As for me, this is the last year I am eligible for the Gams. Neither of us are the type to volunteer. I know, that's strange coming from a girl from District 1. It's even stranger considering this is my last reaping. I just really hope that Tori doesn't have to go into that arena. We have our fights, but I still couldn't bear it if she died.

Living in District 1, you tend to have enough food to eat. It seems that we've spent more time pushing it around in our bowls than I thought. It is already time for the mandatory viewing of the Quarter Quell announcement.

"I guess we better get ready to watch the announcement," my dad says, voicing my thought.

The four of us stand up almost simultaneously. My parents quickly clean the dishes while Tori and I take our places on the couch and turn on the TV. Mom and dad walk in just as it is starting. After sitting down, dad puts his arm around me while mom puts hers around Tori. It is either out of parental instinct, or because they know we're the ones who need the most comfort.

Our President walks up to a large podium. We have a new President. President Snow died shortly after the rebellion ended, after the 80th Hunger Games. He was replaced by President Goldman. True to his name, he wears a solid gold suit and gold eyeliner. Upon reaching the podium, he gives the usual introduction. I have heard the same thing for the past 18 years. Soon enough, he pulls a crisp white envelope with the number 100 printed on it from a box that is presented to him. I am now on the edge of my seat.

Before opening the envelope, he says, "As you all know, there have been three Quarter Quells thus far. For the 25th anniversary of the Games, the Districts were asked to vote for their tributes. On the 50th anniversary, twice as many tributes were sent into the arena. On the fateful 75th anniversary of the Hunger Games, the tributes were reaped from each District's existing pool of victors. And now, we have reached the 100th anniversary of our marvelous Games." He then proceeds to open the envelope. He removes the small piece of paper, which he reads. "On the one-hundredth anniversary of the Hunger Games, as a reminder to the rebels that even the most privileged among them will not be spared, District One must provide two female tributes for this year's Games."

After a brief conclusion, President Goldman leaves the stage, and my dad turns off the TV. I wasn't paying any attention, however. I was too shocked by what I had just heard. I turn to my sister, who is wearing the same terrified expression that I probably had at that moment.

**And there's the first chapter! What did you think? Good? Bad? I'd really like to know either way, so please review! Constructive criticism is always helpful. Also, tell me what you think of my idea for the 4****th**** Quarter Quell. I'll bet you can guess how District 1's reaping will turn out. Stay tuned!**


	2. The Next Best Thing

**Time for the second chapter! This chapter is District 1's reaping and District 2's reaping, including goodbyes. Enjoy!**

_Tori Vega (17), District 1_

I stand in front of our large mirror with my sister. Today is the day of the reaping, and I guess it's pretty obvious that I'm scared. It feels like just yesterday that I watched President Goldman announce that District 1 has to send two female tributes into the arena for the 4th Quarter Quell. I thought I was worried before, but now my chances of getting picked are doubled. I must be the only girl in the whole District who isn't excited about the reaping.

I wear a simple purple dress. With trembling hands, I braid my hair, and tie it with a bow. Trina stands next to me in a beautiful orange dress, with her hair hanging loose. She seems to sense how nervous I am.

"It's going to be okay, Tori," she says. "You've survived the reaping for four years now."

"That's easy for you to say. It's your last year," I reply.

"Yes, but that means my name is in the bowl more times," Trina points out. Why did she have to remind me?

Our mother walks in, and says, "I have such beautiful daughters. You're both going to be just fine."

That's when our dad enters. They both kiss each of us on the head before we head out the door to the reaping.

When we reach the town square, Trina and I follow the routine we've been repeating for years now. A woman pricks my finger, and I press a bloody fingerprint onto a sheet of paper. I then proceed in the direction the other seventeen year-olds. I notice my sister moving towards the eighteen year-olds in a similar fashion.

Before long, it's time for the reaping to begin. Our mayor gives the usual speech, which I only listen to half of. Then, our escort, Pearl, steps up to the microphone. We're shown the classic video, which now includes the second rebellion. Pear starts to speak. It's time. I can feel my body tensing up.

"Good afternoon, District 1," she begins. "As I'm sure you all know, your District has been asked to provide two young ladies for this year's Hunger Games in commemoration of the 100th anniversary. No use dawdling on such a special occasion. Of course, we will start with our first girl."

As she reaches her hand into the large bowl, I feel a brief surge of confidence. It won't be me. Only I was wrong. It is me.

"Tori Vega."

_Trina Vega (18), District 1_

My body freezes when I hear my sister's name. As I watch her move towards the stage, I am furious with myself. I should stop her. I should take her place, but I can't. I am paralyzed with shock, and I am also afraid. By the time I regain my senses, it is too late. Tori is already standing on the stage, being greeted by Pearl. For a moment, I feel powerless to help her. That's when I get an idea. There are two female tributes this year.

"And now, for our second girl," Pearl says, and reaches into the bowl.

I see her lips form a name that's not mine, but I don't hear it over the adrenaline that is propelling me to go through with this decision.

"I volunteer!" I shout it as loud as I can.

Pearl smiles and gestures for me to join them on stage. I readily comply, almost jogging as I make my way through the crowd. When I get to the stage, I stand confidently next to Pearl.

"What is your name, dear?" Pearl asks.

"Trina Vega," I reply.

"Oh! Is this young lady your sister?" she says, pointing at Tori.

"Yes, she is," I confirm.

"So, you'll be competing together. How sweet," she gushes, and turns back to the audience. "With our two girls chosen, it's time to select a male tribute."

She flashes me a final smile. I smile back politely, and join Tori.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she says to me.

"Yes, I did," I reply. "I would have blamed myself if you had died, and I had done nothing to prevent it."

Tori smiles at me, and I feel a lot better. At least for the moment, I'm not thinking about the arena, and I manage to put on a genuine smile for the audience. This doesn't guarantee that she'll make it out alive, but at least I'll be able to protect her. That's the next best thing.

_Rudy Diamond (16), District 1_

This is it. This is the year I volunteer for the Hunger Games. I'm sure I can win, and restore honor to my family. We used to be one of the wealthiest and most respected families in the District, but then we were robbed of a good portion of our wealth by one of the District's poorer members. Since then, we haven't been as well respected. Our specialty is luxuries, after all. That's sure to change, though, if I can win the Hunger Games.

I arrive at the reaping, and everything proceeds as usual. I feel something on par with anticipation as I stand with other sixteen year-old boys, awaiting the drawing. After the mayor's speech and the mandatory video, our escort reaches into a bowl that contains girls' names. She reads a name, and I'm surprised when nobody volunteers. Regardless, the girl makes her way to the stage. After Pearl reads the second name, another girl, who turns out to be the sister of the first, volunteers. Finally, it's time for the boys. Pearl reads the name, which I didn't bother to remember, and I quickly volunteer. In no time at all, I'm standing on the stage.

"What's your name?" Pearl asks me.

"Rudy Diamond," I say, confidently.

"Wonderful. Nice to meet you, young man. Now, I want the three of you to shake hands," she says.

I obediently shake hands with my District partners. They seem like nice girls. It's a shame that they'll have to die if I'm going to win.

_Trina Vega (18), District 1_

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present the tributes of District 1, Tori Vega, Trina Vega, and Rudy Diamond!"

After receiving a round of applause from the audience, the three of us are led into the Justice Building. Being sisters, Tori and I are instructed to wait in the same room. We sit in silence as we wait for our parents. It is due to a combination of dreading to say goodbye to our parents, and nervousness about what is to come. Deep down, I am really glad that Tori and I are going together. I just hope I can stay alive long enough to protect her.

After a few minutes, our mom and dad are shown into the room. I can tell they have been crying. My sister and I run up and hug each of them in turn.

"Good luck in there, girls. I'm sure that one of you can make it home," our mom says.

"Your mother is right. You're both strong girls," our dad confirms. "Try to stick together. Don't leave each other's side if you can help it."

We both give an affirmative nod, and the four of us exchange one last group hug. Then, it's time for our parents to go. I just hope this isn't the last time I'll see them.

_Tori Vega (17), District 1_

Once our parents leave, the true reality of our situation hits me. Against my will, a sob escapes me.

"Don't worry, Tori. I'll be there to protect you, remember?" Trina says, reassuringly.

"That's really nice of you, but you don't know what the other tributes are going to be like," I say, matter-of-factly. "Even the seemingly nice ones can become vicious in the pressure of the arena."

"That may be, but if they want to hurt my little sister, they're going to have to get through me first," Trina replies.

I give her a grateful smile, and we hug once more before we are escorted to the train that will take us to the Capitol.

_Rudy Diamond (16), District 1_

I wait in my designated room for my parents, ready to show them how determined I am. Am I scared? Yeah, but no more than is natural. Soon enough, my mom and dad walk into the room. I give each of them a firm hug. I notice tears in my father's eyes.

"Don't worry, dad. It'll be okay. I can handle this," I tell him.

"I know you can. Make us proud, son," he says.

"I will. That's a promise," I respond confidently.

"We love you, Rudy," my mom adds.

I hug each of them once more before they have to leave. Once they are gone, I just sit quietly for a while, contemplating my strategy. Then, the door opens again, and I leave the security of the room. It's time to get on the train.

_Jade West (17), District 2_

I am alone in my large house as I prepare myself for the reaping. You see, my father is the mayor of District 2. Because of this, my parents are never really around. They're always at meetings or dinners. So, I've basically raised myself. My parents do care about me. They just tend not to show it. I just wish they were around more for my younger brother Dylan's sake. He's only 10, so he doesn't have to worry about the reaping just yet.

I don't usually worry about the reaping either. My name is only entered a handful of times. Of course, I've contemplated volunteering. I've practiced a little over the years, so I could probably hold my own in the arena. Taking one more look at myself, I decided I'm satisfied with my appearance in my favorite black dress. That's when Dylan walks into the room.

"Jade, you're not going to leave me, are you?" he asks.

"You don't have to worry about that. I won't get picked," I assure him.

He nods, and I tell him we have to leave for the reaping. When we arrive, Dylan joins our parents on stage while I stand with the other seventeen year-olds. Soon, the reaping begins. My dad gives his customary speech. It could be good if it wasn't so tedious. I groan without fully meaning to. After we're shown the video, our escort, Annabel, addresses the audience.

Once she is finished, she says, "Let's select our girl tribute, shall we?" She then proceeds to reach into the bowl.

I am too busy contemplating whether or not I want to volunteer to hear the name, but I know it's not mine. When I see the girl it belongs to emerge from the cluster of twelve year-olds, my small, usually hidden compassionate side makes the decision for me.

"I volunteer," I say calmly.

I waste no time joining Annabel on stage, and I flash a smile at my shocked parents and teary-eyed brother.

"May I ask your name?" Annabel inquires.

"Jade West," I tell her. Upon hearing my name, there is a gasp from the audience members who haven't met me, and Annabel looks at me with wide eyes.

"So, does that mean you are the mayor's daughter?" she asks.

'That's right. I am," I tell her, glancing at my father in acknowledgement.

"Well, this will an be exciting Hunger Games indeed. Thank you for volunteering, Jade"

I nod, and then move out of the way to allow Annabel to move on to the boys.

_Blade Silversmith (18), District 2_

I'm ready. I am going to volunteer for the Hunger Games. The training I've done has more than prepared me. My dad expects it of me, and I expect it of myself. Furthermore, this is my last reaping. It seems I have no other choice. Not that I'm unwilling. I feel confident that I could win. I know my dad wouldn't be worried for me. I can't say the same for my twin sisters, Mira and Alisha. They're 12, and really look up to me, especially since our mom died. For a few minutes, it's my turn to worry about them. It's their first reaping.

And so, here I am, awaiting my destiny. When the time comes for the girl's name to be drawn, I desperately hope it won't be one of my sisters.

Annabel reads the name. "Mira Siversmith."

No! Not Mira! She was born first, but is still the weaker of the two. I panic for a moment because there is nothing I can do for her. It doesn't last long, however. An older girl volunteers for her. I breathe a sigh of relief. I'll have plenty of time to thank her. We'll be fellow tributes, after all. When the girl steps on stage, I recognize her as the mayor's daughter even before she confirms it. I have seen her around, but haven't properly met her. She certainly is beautiful.

Finally, it's time to select the male tribute. As Annabel reaches into the bowl, I decided to wait until she reads the name to volunteer. I might as well find out who I'll be replacing, just for fun.

"Blade Silversmith."

Looks like I didn't need to volunteer after all. I make my way to the stage quickly, making it obvious that I don't want anyone to take my place. When I'm finally standing next to Annabel, I feel satisfied. Sure, it isn't as honorable as volunteering, but it's the next best thing.

"So, was that your sister that Miss West volunteered for?" Annabel asks.

I nod, and she smiles at me. She then instructs the two tributes to shake hands.

"Thanks," I mouth to Jade as we shake hands, and she nods in response. That's when a realization hits me. I may have to kill her. We release our hands, and turn back to the audience.

"And there you have it. The tributes of District 2, Jade West and Blade Silversmith."

_Jade West (17), District 2_

One moment, the room I am waiting in is peaceful. The next moment, the door bursts open. Dylan runs in, his face red with crying. My mother follows close behind.

"You said you wouldn't leave, Jade!" Dylan says, after wrapping me in a tight hug.

"I know I did, but if I didn't volunteer, that little girl might have died. You can understand that, right?" I explain.

"I guess so, but now you might die," he says.

"Don't think like that. I'll be just fine. I can fend for myself," I tell him reassuringly.

Dylan wipes his nose and smiles at me. I bend down so I am at his height.

"Could you wait in the hall so mom and I can talk?" I ask him.

Dylan reluctantly complies with my request. Once he is gone, my mother looks at me questioningly.

"So, where's Dad?" I ask, with my arms crossed.

"Honey, he wanted to say goodbye, but he had an important meeting right after the reaping," she explains.

I want to be angry that my father isn't here, but I don't want to spoil this goodbye. I simply exhale, as if in acceptance. I then move on to the more important topic I wanted to discuss with my mom.

"Listen, I need you to take good care of Dylan. You need to really be there for him because I may not be coming back. If that means not going with Dad to a couple of meeting, then that's what you need to do," I tell her seriously.

"Absolutely. I completely understand. That should be the least of your worries from now on, okay?" my mom assures me.

I give her a grateful smile, and a quick hug. She calls Dylan back in, and he gives me one more hug before they have to go. Once I am alone again, I have some time to think. I don't regret what I did today. Blade seemed genuinely grateful that I volunteered for his sister, and that makes me happy. Why have I gone so soft all of a sudden? I'll have to fix that before I enter the arena. I'll need to be stone cold in order to survive. My thoughts take up the few minutes I have before I'm escorted to the train.

_Blade Silversmith (18), District 2_

My dad showers me with congratulations the minute he enters the room.

"You better not let me down, son," he tells me.

He's been a lot harder on me since my mom died, but I don't blame him for it. Instead, I try to embrace it because it will make me stronger in the arena. I thank him for the encouragement, and tell him that I'll try my best to win. Then, I turn to my sisters. They're both crying, as you can imagine. I assure them that they don't have to worry.

"Blade, are you going to win?" Alisha asks me.

"That's the plan, kiddo," I say.

Mira looks up at me with her big brown eyes. I can tell that she wants to say something important.

"Blade, you're not going to be the one to kill that girl who volunteered for me, are you? I hope you don't kill her. If it wasn't for her, I'd be the one going to the Capitol right now."

"I don't know. I really don't know," I tell her honestly.

I wrap both of them in my arms, and hold them there until they have to leave with our dad. It's not until after they leave that the full impact of what Mira said hits me. I was so sure that the Hunger Games would be easy. Well, killing the other tributes might be easy.

But how am I supposed to kill the girl who saved my sister's life, or even stand by and watch her die?

**Wow! I am so excited about this story, and it's only the second chapter! I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I'd like to say a very special thank you to rimaxshiki0 who Favorited and Followed both me and this story. Thanks so much! The next chapter will be posted as soon as I write it. By the way, how awesome was Sam & Cat!?**


	3. Meeting Expectations

**Hello again! This chapter includes District 3's reaping and District 4's reaping. Reviews much appreciated!**

_Darla Compton (14), District 3_

I style my dark brown hair into two tight braids. Today is the day of the reaping, and I am not looking forward to it. Of course, I'm afraid of going into the arena. What really scares me, though, is how my family would take it, especially me older sister, Susanna. She's lucky. She recently turned 19, so she doesn't have to worry about the reaping. I, however, still have several years left to make it through.

"Good luck today, Darla," Susanna says as she comes up behind me, followed by our parents.

As, we make our way to the reaping, I take a moment to admire the District I call home. I've done this for the past two years before the reaping, due to the possibility that I may never return to it. District 3 makes all the technology for the Capitol, so there are plenty of factories around. The result is a lot of pollution, but I love it, just the same.

When we arrive at the reaping, I join the other 14 year-olds while my parents and sister go to stand with the adults and younger children. Right on schedule, the reaping begins. Our mayor gives the customary speech. Afterwards, our escort takes over, and she shows us the video we are required to watch before every reaping. I take a deep breath once it's over. I know what's coming next.

"As always, we will start by selecting our female tribute," our escort announces.

She gracefully makes her way to the bowl, and reaches in to grab one of the slips of paper. I close my eyes, and silently will the paper to not have my name on it. Apparently, I need to work on my technique.

"Darla Compton."

Our escort reads my name. I slowly make my way to the stage, accepting my fate. Soon, I stand right next to our escort. As I expected, nobody volunteers. Volunteering is rare if you don't live in one of the Career Districts.

_Robbie Shapiro (17), District 3_

I certainly hope that I don't get picked for the Hunger Games. I wouldn't last a minute in that arena. Anyone who takes one look at me could tell me that. I am scrawny, and not very strong. I am, however, considered to be smart. I guess that would be my one advantage in the arena. My parents have comforted me every year since I turned 12, insisting that I won't be picked. Now, I'm 17, and I haven't been reaped yet. Despite this, I know that the odds are not in my favor this year.

You see, my family has fallen on some though times. My dad works in one of our District's factories, so most of our money comes from him. My mom finds jobs to do for a little money, as well. Still, it isn't enough. Being their only child, I have to help out in any way I can. This means signing up for tesserae. My name is in the reaping bowl enough times that I am more scared of being chosen than ever.

Right now, I stand with several other 17 year-olds, waiting for my sixth reaping to begin. I am glad when our mayor's speech ends, probably because the tension that has been building up inside of me is about to be relieved. Even more tension is released when our escort announces that she is ready to select a girl. I watch as she reaches into one of the two bowls, and reads the name that is written on the slip of paper.

I frown when the girl who was chosen emerges from the group of 14 year-olds. She may not be the youngest of the eligible children, but she still shouldn't have to die. I try to picture someone killing such a young, innocent girl. It's almost too horrible to imagine. For a moment, I am lost in thought.

I snap back to attention when I hear our escort say, "And now, it's time to determine which boy will participate."

I clench my hands into fists as she reaches into the other bowl, and pulls out a name.

"Robert Shapiro."

It's me! I try to seem as calm as possible as I walk up to the stage. I force a smile as our escort greets me, and then comply when she asks me to shake hands with my partner. Well, my expectations have been met, I suppose.

"Let's give a big hand to your District 3 tributes, Darla Compton and Robert Shapiro!"

_Darla Compton (14), District 3_

I give my parents a questioning look when they enter the room. My sister isn't with them.

"Where's Susanna?" I ask.

My mom laughs through her tears. "I'm not quite sure. Right after your name was called, she told me she had something she needed to do, and then she ran off before I could respond."

I smile. That's just like her. I hope she'll be here soon, though. As if on cue, Susanna burst through the door, a broad smile on her tear-stained face.

Wiping her eyes, she says, "I'm sorry I'm late. I just wanted to get you something to take with you. Here, take it."

With great pride, she presses her gift into my palm. I open my hand to reveal a beautiful silver locket that is shaped like a heart. Upon closer examination, I notice a tiny latch. When I open it, I am even more amazed by what is inside. On one side is a picture of my parents on their most recent anniversary, gazing lovingly up at each other. On the other side is a picture of my Susanna, looking confident and beautiful.

"Wow! Susanna, it's amazing! I love it! Thank you," I exclaim.

"It's just a little something to inspire you. I thought you could take it into the arena as your token."

I nod, and give her a big hug. Our parents come to over to see the locket for themselves. I look at the pictures again, and begin to tear up. Pretty soon, we are all crying, and the three of them hug me at once. My family then proceeds to give me encouragement and advice, which will help me in the weeks to come. Our time together is too short because, before I know it, they are being escorted out of the room.

It's great that my family is always so supportive of me. It makes me sad to think that this may be the last time I see them.

_Robbie Shapiro (17), District 3_

I nervously await saying goodbye to my parents. When they are shown into the room, it is obvious how upset they are. I am their only child, after all. If they lose me, they have nothing.

"I don't want you guys to worry too much about me, okay? It would make these next few weeks harder than they need to be," I tell them.

"Of course we won't, Robbie. We have not reason to worry. You'll be just fine," my mom reassures me.

She sounds honest enough when she says it, but I don't think she really believes it. I think that, deep down, my parents know I don't stand much of a chance. Still, it's nice of them to encourage me. They tell me to use my intelligence to my advantage. It could be valuable both in the arena, and to impress potential sponsors. All too soon, it's time for them to go.

"Goodbye, son," my dad says. The tone of his voice seems to suggest that he suspects we won't be seeing each other again.

I say a final sad goodbye to my parents as they exit the room. I feel vulnerable when I'm alone. I suppose I'll have to get used to the feeling.

_Cora Finnley (15), District 4_

I sit on one of District 4's many docks, which are used for boats and sport fishing. I use my small pocket knife to carve a piece of tree bark into a fishing hook, using the time to think. I am also doing this for practice. Not that I need any practice. After talking it over with my parents, I have decided to volunteer for this year's Hunger Games. It's the 4th Quarter Quell, so hopefully it will be a good one.

From behind me, I hear a voice call, "Cora! It's time!"

I turn around to find my mom standing there with my siblings, Hunter and Samantha. My brother, Hunter, is 14. My sister, Samantha, is only 12. I toss my fishing hook into the water, pocketed my knife, and stood to join my family. I'm not surprised that my mother is alone. She and my dad recently got divorced, and they do most things separately these days.

When we get to the reaping, I feel a rush of excitement. I'm finally going to volunteer! I quickly join the other 15 year-olds, and tell all of my closet friends that I'm going to volunteer. They clearly share my excitement. I barely pay attention to our mayor's speech and the video. I am too overcome by anticipation.

I finally start to pay attention when our escort says, "Without further ado, let's select our female tribute."

I break out into a huge smile. She reads the name, and the small 13 year-old barely has time to move before I beat any other potential volunteers to the punch. I eagerly make my way to the stage, and stand next to our escort.

"What's your name, sweetie?" she asks me.

"My name is Cora Finnley, and I guarantee that I am going to win these Games!" I say, confidently.

"Wow! You've got to love that enthusiasm," she says.

The audience responds with enthusiastic applause. I flash them a smile, and wait for our escort to select the male tribute.

_Gilbert Jacobson (16), District 4_

"Gilbert! Wake up! Today is the reaping!" my dad calls from the kitchen.

It's the morning of the reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. It's a pretty exciting day in the Career Districts. I quickly get dressed, and make my way to the kitchen for breakfast. When I arrive, I see that my parents and Jeremy, my 18 year-old brother, are already seated at the table. I greet them, and proceed to join them at the table. I help myself to the pancakes and bacon.

It starts like any ordinary meal. The four of us comment on how delicious the food is, and engage in conversations about our lives. That's when my dad asks a question that would dramatically impact my day.

"So, Jeremy, are you excited? You'll be volunteering for the Hunger Games!" he says.

"Yeah. I… I'm thrilled," my brother replies.

Because Jeremy is 18, and has shown promise during his training, my parents are expecting him to volunteer this year. Up until now, I had thought he was eager to test his skills. Now, I'm not so sure. Throughout the meal, he gives me nervous looks, like he wants to tell me something important, but is afraid of how I might react. I decide to ignore it for now. If it's important enough, he'll tell me.

After breakfast, I decide to do a little bit of practicing, to prepare myself for the day when it will be my turn to volunteer. I grab four knives, and take up a position in front of the large tree near our house. I take a deep breath, aim, and throw the first knife. It lands right in the middle of the trunk. The second knife lands right next to it, in almost the same place. I throw the third knife, and it lands slightly above the first two. The final knife lands slightly below the first two knifes.

As I am removing the knives from the tree, I see Jeremy approaching me. I can only assume that he wants to tell me whatever is on his mind.

"What's up? Is there something you want to tell me?" I ask.

"Yeah. Listen, I need you to do me a favor," Jeremy begins.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Would you be willing to volunteer today?" he asks me.

So, that's what's been bothering him! It appears I was correct when I observed that he wasn't as excited as he pretended to be.

"Why? Are you _scared_?" I inquire, genuinely curious.

"No! No more than is to be expected. It's just that, I don't think I'm ready to die. There's so much I want to do with my life. I want to marry Natalie, settle down, and get a job on a fishing boat. I don't want to risk losing that, no matter how good my chances may be." He takes a deep breath after concluding his thoughts. "So, will you do it?"

Natalie is Jeremy's girlfriend. I knew they were getting serious, but I never imagined that he had been thinking about proposing. The point he makes is a good one. I wouldn't be ready to die either if I had figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Based on the look he gives, I can tell how determined he is to fulfill this plan. After thinking on it for a moment, I make my decision.

"Well, I suppose I _am_ ready. Sure! Why not?"

"Great! Thanks a lot, Gilbert. You're the best brother a guy could hope for," Jeremy says.

"No problem, but aren't you worried that Mom and Dad will be mad at you?" I wonder.

"Well, I was hoping they wouldn't mind, as long as one of their sons volunteers."

I nod, and he gives me a pat on the back as we walk back to the house together.

The next few hours pass quickly, and I now find myself standing with the rest of our District's 16 year-olds as the reaping is beginning. Our mayor's speech is as unmemorable as ever, as is the video. It's the same old thing every year. Finally, we get to the really exciting part. Our escort announces that she will be selecting a girl. She reads the name on the piece of paper she pulls out, and a 15 year-old volunteers. She sounds confident when she tells the audience that she will be the victor.

"And now, it's the boys' turn."

This is it. I glance in the direction of the 18 year-olds, and find Jeremy. He nods, confirming that he hasn't changed his mind. I nod in response, and turn back in the direction of the stage. Our escort is picking a slip of paper from the bowl that contains boys' names. She brings the paper to the microphone, and she barely opens her mouth before my hand shoots up.

"I volunteer!" I shout.

Our escort smiles. "Wonderful! Come on up, young man."

I obediently make my way to the stage, smiling at my brother on the way up.

"What's your name?"

"Gilbert Jacobson," I respond.

"Well, now that that's settled, let's have our tributes shake hands, shall we?" our escort requests

As I turn to face my partner, I am able to get a better look at her. She is certainly feminine, but clearly tough at the same time. She will be formidable opponent and ally. I just hope the other tributes meet my expectations, as well.

"There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Let's hear it for your District 4 tributes, Cora Finnley and Gilbert Jacobson!"

_Cora Finnley (15), District 4_

I wait for my family, making sure to keep a smile on my face. I am proud of myself for volunteering. Still, I am nervous to see what the other tributes are like. Despite this I am confident in my abilities.

My mom and my siblings enter the room. My mom gives me a big hug, and I can see that she has been crying a little.

"I can do this Mom. I'm ready," I assure her.

"I know you are, sweetie. Good luck out there," she says

"Thanks Mom."

I hug her tightly, and do the same to Hunter and Samantha. During this time, my dad walks in.

"Hi, honey. You'll be great out there. I'll be rooting for you!" he tells me.

I smile and nod, and hug him, as well. He and my mom acknowledge each other, but it's obvious that they don't regret their divorce. They continue to give me advice as my siblings provide encouragement. Soon, it is time for them to go. Before they do, my mom gives me one last piece of advice.

"You should make friends with your partner. He could be a valuable ally."

I nod, and then they are gone.

_Gilbert Jacobson (16), District 4_

As I wait for my family, I am nervous. Not because I'll be competing in the Hunger Games, but because of what my parents might think of me volunteering instead of my brother. When the three of them walk in, I stand up anxiously.

"Gilbert, I thought it would be your brother waiting for us here, and not you," my dad says, honesty.

"I know," I reply. "Jeremy asked me to volunteer instead. I thought I was ready, so I told him I would."

"Well, you are ready," he says.

I see Jeremy's eyes widen. He was probably expecting Dad to call him a coward for not volunteering.

"Wait, you guy aren't mad?" Jeremy asks.

Our mom laughs. "Of course we aren't mad. We still get to watch a son of ours compete. We are so proud."

"We still want an explanation, though," our dad adds.

"I was planning on giving you one," Jeremy says.

We all hug, and they give me some encouragement and advice for the arena. Pretty soon, though, it's time for them to leave.

"You'll be great out there, Gilbert!" Mom calls as she and Dad exit the room.

Jeremy stays behind to talk to me personally.

"Thanks again, Gilbert. It means a lot."

"You're welcome. Be sure to cheer for me, okay?" I say.

"Absolutely! Good luck," Jeremy says.

By this time, the Peacekeeper who is waiting by the door is taping is foot impatiently. My brother waves at me as he exits the room. When I am alone, I take a deep breath. I am ready for the 100th Annual Hunger Games.

**Finally finished! I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long. I've been kind of busy. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait! I promise the next chapter will be up faster. Pretty, pretty please review. Thanks!**


	4. A Mask of Bravery

**Who's ready to read about the tributes from 5 and 6!? Two more Victorious characters will be introduced.**

_Angela Zimmerman (14) District 5_

I am flat on my back in the middle of the small park that District 5 decided to invest in. It serves as a sort of safe haven from the cluttered atmosphere of our power plants. Next to me is my best friend, Cassie. Our families live next to each other, so it works out perfectly. The two of us have been coming here every day for almost a year. Or at least, every day since about the middle of last year's Hunger Games. That was the day her brother died in the arena.

The tributes had been in the arena for about a week, and George seemed to be doing well. He had managed to find an ally, and the two of them worked together to kill two of the Careers. The problem was that they hadn't killed all of them. George and his ally had been looking for food. They didn't notice that one of the Careers was sneaking up behind them. I can only imagine what Cassie was feeling as she watched a knife land in her brother's back. His ally turned around just in time to see the Career dart off in the opposite direction. The boy knelt down to George, who had collapsed on the ground. It was obvious that he didn't have much strength left.

The minute George's cannon sounded, I jumped up and ran to the nearest window. Sure enough, Cassie came bursting out of her front door, accompanied by worried looks from her parents. I noticed that she was heading in the direction of the park, so I decided to follow her. We've been coming here ever since.

I look over at her, and I can see that she's thinking about that day, too. It's understandable, considering that we're about to head to the reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games.

"Hey. Don't worry," I say reassuringly. "We'll be just fine."

"Yeah? Well, that's what my brother said to me when I visited him after the reaping last year," she says, tearing up. "So, how can you be so sure?"

"I guess I can't."

I sigh. There's just no consoling her. Although, I guess I shouldn't blame her. Losing a sibling would make me pessimistic, too. Despite this new outlook on life, I love Cassie like she's my sister. Speaking of which, I hear my actual little sister, Pam, running in our direction.

"Come on, guys. It's time!" she informs us before scampering off to the square. She seems unusually calm for her first reaping. She has sufficient reason to be confident, though. When you're only 12, the odds are usually in your favor.

"Looks like we're about to find out," I say as I stand up and extend a hand to Cassie.

As the two of us walk to the reaping, we are silent. My friend has proven resistant to my attempts at comforting her. When we arrive, we each sign in, and proceed to join the other 14 year-olds. I try to give Cassie a smile, but she is simply too nervous. I search for my sister instead. Pamela waves at me from her spot in the group of 12 year-olds, and I wave back. I turn back to the stage just as the reaping is beginning.

It begins with the activities that usually lead up to the selection. As our escort takes center stage following out mayor's speech, I take Cassie's hand in my own. She manages to smile at me, and I know she is grateful.

"And with that, it's time to select our female tribute!" our escort announces once the video is over.

As she walks up to the bowl containing not only my own name, but the names of two of the people I care about most, I close my eyes. I pray that it won't be one of those three names. Apparently, I should have prayed a little bit harder.

The name she reads is Cassandra's.

No! Her parents already lost her brother. They can't lose her, too. I just can't let that happen. Cassie hasn't even moved before I make my decision.

"I volunteer!" I exclaim, and Cassie's horrified look intensifies.

After ripping my hand away from hers, I make my way to the stage. Once there, I am greeted enthusiastically by our escort. It makes me sick.

"What's your name, darling?" she asks.

"Angela Zimmerman," I reply, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Well, Angela, that was certainly brave of you to volunteer. Bravo!"

She's right. That was a pretty brave move. I just hope I can remain that brave for the sake of the people I care about.

_Andre Harris (17), District 5_

I half-heartedly eat the pancakes my mom was generous enough to make for me. It's the day of the reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games, and I'm pretty nervous. Every year, I watch mere children fight to the death in that arena. It's scary to think that I could easily be one of them.

After I finish eating, I thank my mom for the breakfast and make my way back up to my bedroom. When, I enter the room, I immediately sit down at my keyboard. It had been a present for my 12th birthday, the first year I was eligible for the games. As I begin to play, I feel calm and relaxed, at least for a little while. Music means everything to me. It's the one thing that keeps me going in this crazy world we live in.

After I finish the song I was working on, I sit on my bed for a while to think. What would I do if I was selected at the reaping in just a few hours? I highly doubt that I could bring myself to kill a person. Even so, I'd have to appear brave and confident to keep my family from worrying. I look at the clock, and see that it's already noon. I decide to go for a walk to clear my head. I inform my parents of this, and head out the door.

I begin to walk alone through the District I call home. District 5 consists of one large power plant that supplies electricity to the capitol, and several smaller power plants that supply electricity to the Districts. Then, of course, there's the residential portion of the District. I think that may just be my favorite part.

As I pass the park, I catch sight of something interesting. I see two girls, and they appear to be talking. They both appear to be upset about something. It probably has to do with the reaping. I watch them for a few minutes, curious. Soon, I notice a younger girl run up to them, and they get up to follow her. Where are they off to in such a hurry?

I get my answer when my parents run up. "Andre, it's time for the reaping."

It's time already? I've been walking for longer than I thought. Well, time to see if I make it through another year. We walk to the reaping together. We remain together until I have to join the other 17 year-olds. I'll admit that I'm not entirely patient as I wait for the reaping to begin. I want to get it over with. For this reason, I am relieved when our mayor takes the stage. His speech is as bland as usual, as is the video that follows.

I sigh when our escort announces that she will be selecting the female tribute. I decide that I won't even pay attention. That's when things get interesting. Our escort reads the name, and one of the 14 year-old girls tenses up. I gasp. I recognize her as one of the girls I saw at the park. Almost immediately, the girl she was with volunteers. Judging by the urgency in her voice, I can tell that they're really close friends. I feel sorry for both of them as she steps onto the stage.

"And now, we will choose a boy," our escort says.

This is it. It's time to hear my fate. I watch as she grabs a slip of paper.

"Andre Harris."

My eyes widen with fear at the sound of my name, but I quickly snap out of it. I try to take the stage with as much dignity as possible. I'll have to be brave if I am going to make it through this.

_Angela Zimmerman (14), District 5_

"But I don't want you to go!" an indignant Pam exclaims, shaking with tears.

"Pamela, listen to me. I had to volunteer! I didn't want to watch my best friend fight in that arena."

She sniffles, but it appears that she is starting to calm down. I return to my parents' arms, thinking that the worst of this goodbye is over. Boy, was I wrong. That's when Cassie storms in. Her expression is an unsettling combination of sadness and anger.

"Liar!" she screams, smacking my arm. "You said we'd be fine! You said I wouldn't have to lose another person to the Games!"

"I'm sorry!" I say. "Your parents already lost George! I couldn't let them lose you, too!"

"Well, now I might lose you. Did you think about that!?" she retaliates.

"At least my parents would still have Pam! Your parents would be all alone, Cassie. Would you really want that to happen?"

Cassie realizes the truth of my argument, and relents. She wipes the tears from her eyes, and says, "You're right. Besides, we shouldn't be fighting, especially not here." I smile, and she continues. "At least I'll always have this," she says, gesturing to the friendship bracelet on her arm.

"Yeah," I agree, glancing at my own bracelet. I am caught off-guard by my best friend wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Good luck out there, Angie," she says.

"Thanks," I reply, and I return her hug.

After giving final hugs to my parents and sister, I say goodbye to my loved ones for what may very well be the last time. I tried to appear brave for Cassie, but deep down, I am worried that I may come to regret my decision. For now, though, I am confident that I did the right thing.

_Andre Harris (17), District 5_

I wait patiently for my family to arrive. While I wait, I try to think of exactly what I should say to them. Should I tell them I'll be okay? That seems like a bit of a lie. One thing is for sure, I can't let them worry about me too much.

A big grin breaks out on my face when my parents enter. I am surprised to see that they are followed by my grandma. She may be crazy, but I love her.

"Grandma!" I exclaim, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hey, Andre!" she says.

My grandma was never quite the same after losing her sister in the Hunger Games when she was younger. At the time, she was 21, and her sister was 17. She had married my grandpa at the young age of 19, and had given birth to my dad shortly before the reaping. After her sister was killed, my grandma sort of lost her mind. My grandpa ended up doing most of the work when it came to raising my dad. I have no idea why my dad felt the need to tell me all of this. I guess it just made him feel better about not getting to really know his aunt. Anyway, my grandpa died a few years ago.

After I finish greeting my grandma, I turn to my parents. They look worried for me. I wish I could make them feel better, but I don't really know how.

"I wish you guys didn't have to worry so much. All I can say is that I'll do my best," I say.

My mom wipes a tear from her eye. "We know you will. And listen, the best strategy is to try to make some allies. They'll help you in the arena."

"And don't forget about the essential. Starvation, dehydration, and cold can kill just as easily as any weapon," my dad adds.

"Got it," I reply.

When a Peacekeeper informs us that visiting time is over, I give up. I allow myself a few tears as I say my final goodbyes to my family. Once they leave, however, I wipe them away. In the arena, I'll have to maintain my mask of bravery. It's the only way to ensure that they won't worry.

_Jasmine Leek (14), District 6_

I sit next to my boyfriend, Jason, on the trolley that is taking us to the reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. Speaking of anniversaries, we just celebrated the first anniversary of the day we started dating. Jason is pretty much the only reason I'll be able to make it through this. He gives me strength, and I am so glad to have him. It amazes me to think that we might not even be together if it weren't for a mutual friend of ours, Beck Oliver.

It all started two years ago. Jason and I had been friends since we were 5, and it is still the best friendship I've ever had. However, things started to change when we turned 12. That's the year I started to notice how attractive Jason is. I found myself staring at him for minutes at a time. He must have thought I was a freak, and that bothered me more than it should have. It was at that point that I realized I had a huge crush on him. I've always been a little shy, so I chose to do nothing about it. One day, a group of 15 year-olds decided to pick on us, and tease us. Amidst the taunting, I couldn't help noticing that one of the boys wasn't joining in. He asked the other kids to stop, and, sure enough, they listened to him. The boy stepped forward, and introduced himself as Beck.

Beck has been like an older brother to me ever since. I do have two siblings of my own. I have an older sister named Ashlynn, and a younger brother named Preston. Even so, older sisters aren't as protective as older brothers. After we met Beck, things continued as normal for a year. That's when Beck noticed my crush on Jason. He must have decided that we'd make a cute couple because he started giving me advice. He told me what boys like in a girl, and what I should say. I finally got the courage to try his suggestions, and was pleased to find out that Jason liked me, too. He kissed me, and we've been dating ever since. That brings the story to where we are right now.

Jason, perhaps realizing that I'm lost in thought, asks, "Are you nervous?"

I snap back to attention. "It's the Hunger Games. I'm pretty sure every kid in our District between the ages of 12 and 18 is nervous," I reply.

"Right," he says with a laugh. "Anyway, looks like we're here."

He's right. The trolley slows to a stop, and we hop off to get in line.

Soon enough, Jason and I stand with the other 14 year-olds, waiting for the reaping to begin. The nervous tension in my body increases when our mayor steps onto the stage. His speech and the video that follows do nothing to reassure me, since they talk about the importance of the Hunger Games to the Capitol. I use this time to find my brother and sister. I see Ashlynn with the 18 year-olds, as expected. I turn in the opposite direction, and see Preston with the 12 year-olds. He seems more nervous than I am, as this is his first reaping.

By the time I finish locating my siblings, our escort is ready to make the selection.

"As always, we shall start by selecting our female tribute," she announces.

She makes a show of reaching into the bowl.

"And the lucky girl is," she begins as she unfolds the slip of paper, "Jasmine Leek."

Jason turns to me, wide-eyed. I have to force my feet to move in the direction of the stage. Once I finally reach my destination, I am greeted by our escort. I wonder if she can sense how terrified I am. Now, all I can do is hope that the male tribute isn't Jason or Beck.

_Beck Oliver (17), District 6_

I can't believe I missed the first trolley to the reaping! I couldn't fall asleep last night because I was so nervous. When my mom finally shook me awake, it was noon. By the time I had ate and got dressed, it was already 1:30. Jasmine and Jason are probably on their way by now. Luckily, I was able to catch the second trolley.

As I ride, all my thoughts are about the reaping. My own fate is at the forefront of my mind, of course. I also think about Jasmine and Jason. They're sweet kids, and I sure hope they make it through another year. They make a really cute couple. It's not every day that I protect kids so much younger than me, but it always feels good to do something nice. One thing you should know about me is that I'm fiercely loyal to the people I care about. To my relief, one person I don't have to worry about is my older brother, Drake. He's 20 now, so he is no longer eligible for the reaping.

The trolley jerks to a stop, and I exit with the other passengers. After signing in, I join the other 17 year-olds. I see some of the guys I used to hang out with, but ignore them. Instead, I search for Jasmine and Jason. I easily spot them in the group of 14 year-olds. Satisfied, I turn back to the stage and wait for the reaping to begin.

The beginning of the reaping is as dull as any other. I'm more focus on wondering who the tributes will be. Finally, our escort announces that she is ready to select a girl. She quickly grabs one of the slips of paper from the glass bowl. I cringe when she reads the name.

"Jasmine Leek."

This is awful! I watch as she sheepishly makes her way to the stage. I can only imagine how Jason must be feeling right now. It would crush him if she died. That's all I can think about as our escort greets Jasmine. Once this is done, she announces that she will now select the male tribute. One good thing that can be said about her is that she certainly doesn't waste time. After selecting a name, she casually reclaims her place at the microphone.

"Beck Oliver."

This can't be happening! I can't go into the arena with Jasmine! Swallowing hard, I walk towards the stage. I soon find myself standing next to Jasmine.

"Alright. Now, shake hands you two," our escort requests.

Jasmine and I exchange nervous glances as we extend our hands to each other. I can tell that she is just as upset by this as I am.

"Okay, District 6, let's hear a round of applause for your tributes. I'm sure you'll all be rooting for Jasmine Leek and Beck Oliver," our escort says to the audience.

I frustrates me that there is nothing I can do about this. All I can do is put on a mask of bravery for Jason. I have to let him know that his girlfriend will be safe, even though she won't.

_Jasmine Leek (14), District 6_

I sit in the room I was shown into. As I wait for my family to arrive, I am focusing on the weeks to come. How am I supposed to compete against Beck in the Hunger Games? How can I kill a guy who is like a brother to me, and is the reason I got the courage to tell my boyfriend I like him? It sure won't be easy. That's a guarantee.

My siblings arrive first. Our parents arrive a minute later. I collapse into Ashlynn's arms.

"What happens if Beck and I are the final two? What am I supposed to do then?" I ask her.

"It'll be okay, sis. Just be glad it isn't Jason," she reassures me.

That statement is true enough. As hard as it will be to go into the arena with Beck, going in with Jason would be even harder. I would probably just kill myself to get it over with. That's when something dawns on me.

"Wait a minute. Where is Jason?" I wonder, wiping away the tears that have begun to escape.

"I don't know, sweetie. He wasn't behind us," my dad informs me.

"Doesn't he want to say goodbye to me? I thought for sure that he'd come here," I say, growing worried.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, honey. He may not be here, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about you. On the contrary, he probably thought it would worry you to see how upset he is, or maybe he just couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to you," my mom says.

I nod in agreement, and walk over to hug both of my parents. The next few minutes consist of hugging and crying. There are words of encouragement as well. After I reassure Preston once more that I will be okay, it is time for them to leave. I wave as I watch my family walk out the door.

My mom was right. I'm sure Jason has a very good reason for not coming to say goodbye to me. Besides, getting mad at him would be the worst possible thing I could do right now. Still, I can't help but wonder where he is.

_Beck Oliver (17), District 6_

"Why can't you just form an alliance with her?" Drake asks me.

"It's a nice thought, but it would make things that much harder if we end up as the final two. I'd be betraying her in more ways than one," I explain, trying to keep my cool.

"I see your point," my brother admits. "Well, good luck to you, kid."

"Thanks. I'm going to need it," I say, tearing up.

It's funny. I don't normally let anyone see me cry. I try to appear brave and tough.

"It'll be okay. You'll figure something out," Mom says, rubbing my back.

"She's right," my dad adds. "Besides, it's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done, and I'm sure you friends know that."

I smile appreciatively at my family. They always know just what to say. As I am hugging them all once more, I'm surprised to see Jason walk in. His expression appears serious.

"Beck, I need you to promise me something," he says.

"If you want me to promise that Jasmine will win, I'm afraid I can't. I wish I could," I tell him, shrugging my shoulders.

"I know," he replies. "I just want you to promise me you'll keep her safe, at least for a while."

"I'll try my best, man," I assure him, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure you will," he says, repeating the gesture. "I trust you."

Then, he takes a step back. If it's possible, I'd say his expression becomes even more serious.

"Just know this. If you kill my girlfriend, or she dies on your watch, I will never forgive you for it."

With that, Jason exits the room. Perhaps sensing that there is no more to say, my parents leave as well. The time for visiting was up, anyway. As I watch them leave, the full reality of my situation hits me. I am about to compete in the 100th Annual Hunger Games, and one of my opponents is a girl who I know I won't be able to kill.

**Finally! Another chapter is complete. Sorry this took so long. I said I would update sooner, and it's been over two weeks. My summer class eats up most of my time. Even my weekends are busy! On top of that, I have a bit of a procrastination problem. Anyway, I hope everyone had a great 4****th**** of July yesterday! I would tell you I'll try to be quicker with the next chapter, but we all know how that turned out. So until next time my lovely readers! Please review!**

** Shout-Outs!**

** knd number 7- I forgot to thank you last chapter! Well, a late thank you is better than no thank you. I still really want to say thanks for favoriting and following, as well as all those private messages you exchanged with me. Now, I have an idea to turn to if I ever get writers block. **

** nevergoneforever- Thanks so much for favoriting and following! I'd especially like to thank you for giving this story its first review! If only my silent readers would follow in your much appreciated footsteps (Hint! Hint!) **


	5. Rainbows on the Horizon

** We've reached Districts 7 and 8! If you have been paying attention, you've probably figured out that there is only one Victorious character left to be introduced. Well, there's no need to wait any longer. The final Victorious character is being introduced in this chapter! Hooray! I hope you enjoy.**

_Quima Umberton (16), District 7_

My sisters and I have a tradition. We always hike through our District's enormous forest before the reaping for the Hunger Games. This tradition began the day of my oldest sister's first reaping. It now her final reaping, and our youngest sister's first. It really is amazing how fast time seems to fly by.

There are four of us. Abigail is the oldest at 18. I'm next at 16. Ivy is third at 14. Mabel is the youngest at 12. I love my family more than anything in the world. As we make our way through the woods at a leisurely pace, I can't help but overhear the conversation between my younger sisters.

"Aren't you nervous about the reaping?" Mabel asks, misty-eyed.

"Nah," Ivy replies with a confident smirk. "In fact, I was thinking about volunteering."

"Wow! You're so brave!" Mabel exclaims, in awe of her older sister.

The fact that Ivy wants to volunteer really unsettles me. Yesterday, Abby and I made a secret vow to protect our younger sisters. We had mutually agreed that I would volunteer for Ivy, and she would volunteer for Mabel. The two of us exchange a knowing glance. If Ivy wants to volunteer, then it's my job to stop it.

"Alright. It's getting late. We should probably go get ready," Abigail informs us.

The four of us turn around, and head back to our house to get ready for the reaping. As we prepare, we make small talk about what the odds are of getting picked, and exchange complements. I'm sure that the complements are very sincere. The four of us look stunning in our dresses. Being sisters, we look pretty similar. Abby, Ivy, and I all have brown hair. Mabel's is more of a darker blonde. I wear my hair in a single braid down my back. Ivy wears hers in two braids. Abby and Mabel prefer to wear their hair loose. Satisfied, we all make our way to the reaping.

After my sisters and I sign in, we each have to go our separate ways. I wanted to keep a close eye on Ivy, so I locate her with the 14 year-olds. I can tell that she is bragging to her friends about volunteering. Luckily, at least one of them appears to be trying to talk her out of it. Ivy obviously isn't swayed. I barely pay attention to the beginning of the reaping. I glance nervously between Abigail and Ivy, occasionally allowing my eyes to wander in the direction of the 12 year-olds. Mabel appears to be okay for the moment. Finally, something catches my attention.

"I will now choose a female tribute," our escort announces.

My palms begin to sweat as I watch her draw a slip of paper from the bowl. She walks back over to the microphone, and opens her mouth to read the name. As soon as it's clear that it isn't Ivy's name, her hand begins to move. I have to act now.

"I volunteer!" I shout, immediately looking back in the direction of my stunned sister.

As I make my way to the stage, I feel good. This was the right thing to do. I refuse to let myself doubt that. I keep walking until I stand next to our escort.

"What's your name, dear?" she asks me.

"Quima Umberton," I reply.

"Well, thank you very much for volunteering," she says.

I turn my gaze back to the audience. Ivy is clearly upset with me. She probably thinks I just wanted to steal her thunder. Well, she can hate me if she wants. All that matters is that she has a bright future ahead of her. She will live to see many more rainbows.

_Dante Xavier (18), District 7_

I haul the final log onto the back of the truck, grunting with the effort. I guess I should be happy that I get to go home early to get ready for the reaping. Honestly, I'd rather keep working. I'm always a bit nervous on reaping day. At least this is my last year. With that positive thought in mind, I begin walking back to my house. When I reach my destination, I reluctantly put my hand on the doorknob. I always dread this moment. It goes the same every year. I turn the knob, and walk inside.

Sure enough, I find my mother in tears. The reaping always upsets her. My dad is doing his best to comfort her.

"How is she?" I ask, genuinely concerned.

"Upset, as usual," my dad replies.

Sighing, I put a hand on my mom's shoulder. "Mom, you don't have to worry. I've made it through for this long. I can make it through one more reaping."

"I know. It's just that you're my only child. I'd hate to lose you," she says between sobs.

I give my mom a sympathetic smile before heading to my room to get ready.

This scene has been repeated before every reaping. Every year, I've been reminded that my mom is right. It would be awful for my parents if I were to be killed in the Games. That thought always makes me more nervous. It may seem strange to some people that I'm so nervous about the reaping. Like many young men in District 7, years of swinging an axe and moving logs has made me relatively large and muscular. It doesn't surprise me that nobody suspects how sensitive I really am.

I smooth down my best shirt, and return to where my parents are. We leave the house together and begin the walk to the reaping. Along the way, I try to help my dad calm my mom down. She usually settles down by the time we reach the reaping. When we arrive, I have to leave my parents so I can check in. Once I do, I join the other 18 year-olds. They appear just as relieved to be at their final reaping as I am.

The beginning of the reaping goes by smoothly and without complications. Then, our escort announces that she will select a female tribute. Before she even finishes reading the name, another girl volunteers. As she takes the stage, I see another girl glaring at her from the cluster of 14 year-olds. I wonder what that's about. I don't have time to think about it, however, because our escort is about to choose a male tribute. I watch nervously as she grabs a slip, and returns to the microphone.

"Dante Xavier."

Just my luck! Only one more reaping to go, and I get picked. Well, I don't really have a choice. I shakily walk to the stage. I am greeted by our escort, and she requests that I shake hands with my partner. She seems tough. She might make a good ally.

"Let's have a round of applause for Quima Umberton and Dante Xavier!" our escort exclaims proudly.

_Quima Umberton (16), District 7_

I suppose I should have expected that my final few minutes with my family wouldn't go so well.

"I can't believe you did that! You just had to steal all the glory for yourself, didn't you!?" Ivy shouts.

I can't help but laugh at that. "Do you really think I want to be in the Hunger Games? Do you think I want to die? I don't! I volunteered to save you!" I retort.

Suddenly, Ivy's expression of anger turns to one of confusion. "Why?"

"Because, you could have a great future ahead of you. You're pretty, and smart, and strong. You could do anything you want. I couldn't let you throw that away," I explain.

At this point, my mom contributes. "You should be thanking her, not yelling at her."

Ivy nods, seeming to understand. "I'm sorry." I smile at her in response.

"You did the right thing, sis. Still, I'm worried about you. Are you sure you can do this?" Abigail says.

"Yeah. Don't forget that I've helped Dad with the firewood since I was 8," I reply.

"She's right," my dad says. "I believe in you, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Dad," I say, grateful.

It's almost time for my family to go. Before they leave, I get a hug from a teary-eyed Mabel, as well as from Abigail and my parents. I didn't really expect one from Ivy. They exit the room, and I am alone. Then, something surprising happens. Ivy runs back into the room and wraps me in a tight hug.

"I love you, Quima," she says.

I relax, wrapping my arms around her. "I love you, too."

_Dante Xavier (18), District 7_

I dread saying goodbye to my parents. It's going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done. I can't even imagine how upset my mom is. I get my answer when they walk through the door. She does seem pretty shaken up.

"I need you to be strong for me, okay?" I tell her. "I can't do this if I know you're at home worrying about me."

"You're right. I just need to believe in you and cheer you on. That will certainly do more good than crying," my mom says.

I try to give her some reassurance. "Besides, I'm strong. I think I can do this."

"He's right, sweetie," my dad confirms. "I've seen how well he handles an axe. He might actually have a shot."

My mother nods, wiping the last of her tears away. I give each of them a hug, and then it's time for them to leave. I just need to believe what I told my mom. My strength might give me a fighting chance in the arena. At any rate, I know that I'll have a bright future ahead of me if I win.

_Cat Valentine (17), District 8_

I guess you could say that the Hunger Games is a bit of a reality check for me. I'm sure plenty of people feel the same way. We like to believe that life is all unicorns and sunshine, but it isn't. The Hunger Games more than proves that. That's why I'm so glad that next year will be the final year that I am eligible for the reaping. I would hate to leave my life in District 8. My friends at school admire my talent for knowing people's exact measurements. This life suits me just right!

For this reason, I like to take the time to admire the world before every reaping. It rained earlier this morning, so I have the pleasure of enjoying a beautiful rainbow. I interpret rainbows as a sign that good things will come. Despite the good omen, I'm still nervous. Normally, I'd be practicing my sewing next to my small flower garden on such a beautiful afternoon. At the moment, I just feel like sitting on my front steps by myself. I'm not alone for long, because my good friend Sam has returned from town to join me. She's been my roommate ever since my parents took my brother to a special clinic and my grandma moved to our District's retirement home. Sam is carrying a small paper bag.

"Hi," I greet her half-heartedly.

"Hey," she says before sitting down. "Guess what I brought you?"

"Is it some kind of magic ticket that can get me out of the reaping?" I ask, sounding both serious and sarcastic. Serious because I wish it was possible. Sarcastic because I know it isn't.

"No," Sam answers. "It's a red velvet cupcake. I picked it up from the bakery because I know they're your favorite. Here, take it"

She hands me the bag, and I eagerly remove the cupcake that's inside.

As I eat, Sam says, "I've been thinking. I'll volunteer for you if you get reaped."

"You'd really do that for me?" I ask in disbelief.

She nods, and then checks her watch. "Oh! We have to go!" she exclaims. "You can finish your cupcake on the way."

She grabs me by the wrist, and pulls me along to where the reaping is being held. When we reach our destination, the two of us check in. We then join the other 17 year-olds, and wait for the reaping to begin. I try to pay attention to our mayor's speech and the propaganda video out of courtesy. Still, I'm glad when our escort moves to select the girl tribute. My nervous anticipation grows as she selects a name

"Caterina Valentine."

I am shocked when I hear my name. I turn to Sam expectantly, but she just stands there. She doesn't say anything. Not wanting to make a scene, I realize that I have no choice. Mustering up all the courage I have, I walk to the stage. I'm greeted all too enthusiastically by our escort, and then I move off to the side. All I can do is wait with growing anger while the male tribute is chosen.

_Wimbley Hemingway (16), District 8_

Compared to other kids in District 8, I'm under a lot of pressure. You see, my dad is our District's only surviving victor. We had a few others, but they died several years ago. It's not that he's particularly tough on me. It's just a huge reputation to live up to. I shouldn't really complain, since it would give me a considerable advantage if I was chosen at the reaping. Right now I sit on a couch in our home in the Victor's Village. I'm listening to my dad tell the story of how he won the Hunger Games for what feels like the fiftieth time.

"The girl from 2 was smart and strong. Nobody could have guessed that the time that a boy from District 8 could beat her. Luckily for me, she wasn't so smart when hunger took over," he says.

"So, what was your strategy to beat her?" my younger sister, Christine, asks in amazement. She would be amazed. She's never heard the story before. She's 12, and today is her first reaping. This is the first year she gets to listen in.

"I killed off all of the best animals, so she would have nothing to eat while searching for me. Late that night, I decided she was sufficiently hungry. When the final confrontation came, I pulled out a handful of nightlock berries. Starvation prevented her from recognizing them, and she readily accepted my offering. After popping one in her mouth, she took another quick look at the berries. She died with a look of horrified realization on her face," he explains.

Sometimes, I think he might be a little too proud of how he out-smarted that girl. I don't hold it against him, though. He has a right to be proud. Glancing at the clock I realize that it's almost time for the reaping.

"Dad, we should go," I inform him.

He nods, and calls to my mom. She joins us quickly, and the four of us head to the reaping. Along the way, I chat with my sister.

"Isn't that a great story Dad told us?" she asks.

"Sure it is, Chrissy. I've just heard it a million times," I reply.

We arrive at the reaping fairly quickly. I show Chrissy how to sign in, and point her in the direction of the other 12 year-olds. I take my own place with the 16 year-olds, and the reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games begins. The beginning goes by surprisingly fast. The girl tribute is a red-head who appears to be around my age. Before I know it, it's time for our escort to select a male tribute.

"Wimbley Hemingway," she reads.

I wasn't really expecting to be picked. Fear hits me suddenly. Even so, I make my way to the stage with relative ease. After our escort greets me, she asks that I shake hands with my partner. I obediently extend my hand to the red-headed girl. She seems sad and angry. I don't blame her.

"Let's hear it for Caterina Valentine and Wimbley Hemingway!"

_Cat Valentine (17), District 8_

I don't have to wait long before Sam arrives with my grandma.

"Nona!" I exclaim, giving her a big hug.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Cat. I have a surprise that I think might cheer you up," she says. She gestures to the door, and my parents enter with my brother. I am so happy to see them again!

"Yay! This is so great!" I exclaim, running to give my brother a hug. "When did you guys get home?"

"Just a little while ago. The doctors at the clinic said I was ready to come home. We had a little surprise party waiting at the house for when you got back from the reaping. I guess we won't be celebrating now," he explains.

"That's okay, Charlie. I'm just glad you guys came," I tell him. After hugging my parents as well, I turn to Sam. "I thought you said you'd volunteer for me. Why would you lie to me?" I ask her, now more sad than angry.

"Honestly, I only told you that to make you feel better. I didn't think you'd actually get picked! I'm such a chicken," she says.

"Well, you know what they say. You are what you eat," I joke. We both laugh, and I feel a little better.

"Good luck, Cat," she says, and gives me a goodbye hug.

Unfortunately, it's time for them to leave. I wave sadly, as they exit the room. When they are gone, I am alone once again. I close my eyes, and try to picture the rainbow that has since faded away.

_Wimbley Hemingway (16), District 8_

"Just remember the three necessities: food, water, and shelter. If you have those, be one step ahead of the competition," my dad says.

He's been using our goodbye time to give me some tips that can help me in the arena. It's certainly a more thorough set of guidelines than most tributes have access to. He gives a few more quick tips, then declares that he's told me everything he knows.

"If you follow your father's advice, you might stand a pretty good chance of winning," my mom says for confirmation.

"I know," I say, wiping a few tears away.

"Wimbley, do you think you could win like Dad did?" Christine asks me.

"Maybe. I certainly have the knowledge to survive in any type of arena. I'm not going to give up hope," I tell her, truthfully

It's already time for them to leave. I hug them all one last time.

"I love you, big brother," Chrissy says as she hurries out the door.

Despite what I told my sister, I'm not so sure that I can win. I kind of scrawny, and not very strong. Still, with the knowledge my dad has passed down to me, I might just stand a chance. If I do manage to win, my family would probably be the most respected in all of District 8. That's a pretty bright future to look forward to. I suppose we all have _something _to fight for.

**The end! This might be a longer author's note. I'll understand if you want to skip over it. Here it goes….**

** I am SO sorry! I feel like a terrible person. I have no good excuse for the extremely long delay, other than going on vacation for a week. I certainly hope it was worth the wait! The good news is that I'm pretty much completely free these next couple of weeks, so that means faster updates. Now, on to the story. I hope you've been enjoying my original characters so far. I gave them some funkier names this chapter. I felt like the names so far have been relatively common, so I decided to give these a little Panem flair. Feel free to tell me if they're cool…or stupid. I'll be grateful for the review either way. **** I also hope you all liked how I wrote Cat's brother. I like to think I'm a creative person, but you'd have to be Dan Schneider to write him the way he's described on the show. Haha!**

** Time for shout outs!**

**Nevergone4ever- Are you gonna review every chapter!? That's awesome! I hope you're happy with the District Cat is in. I thought it fit her perfectly! Kind of like District 6 fits Beck perfectly.**

**I'd also like to thank my two new followers, RealaCarsona and MileyHannahFan!**

** See you next chapter! Pretty please review!**


	6. A Matter of Life and Death

_Yvetta Simmer (16), District 9_

The nervousness that comes with each reaping is bad enough. This year, I've added grief on top of that, which makes it even worse. My mom passed away about a month ago. My brother and I have had a difficult time moving on, but it's nothing compared to how our dad felt. He was a mess for weeks, but I think he's finally coming around.

At least it wasn't a huge surprise. She'd been sick for a while, and it was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. She saw lots doctors, but nothing they did helped her. As I select my outfit, I think back to the conversation I had with her before my very first reaping.

_"Mom, I'm scared," I said, holding back tears._

_ "Don't be, Vettie. You won't get picked," she replied. She tucks my hair behind my ear, trying to comfort me._

_ "But, my name is in the bowl 15 times. You can't really believe that," I protested, unconvinced._

_ "I do believe it, and you should too. You have to have faith, Yvetta."_

I really took those words to heart, and have remembered them before every reaping. I need faith more than ever this year. As I am making my final preparations for the reaping, my little brother walks in. His name is David, but I like to call him Davey. He's only 9, so he isn't yet eligible for the reaping.

"Yvetta, are you ready to…" He stops short when he sees me in my favorite dress. "Wow! You look pretty. Just like mommy."

I smile at him. "Thanks, Davey. We'd better get going."

He nods, and the two of us join our dad downstairs. Together, the three of us head over to the reaping. When we arrive, I check in while my dad and brother go to join the rest of our District. I find my way to the group of 16 year-olds, and say hello to a few kids I know. Right on schedule, the reaping begins. I find myself grabbing the skirt of my dress out of nervousness during the beginning of the proceedings. I do so until our escort announces that it is time to select a female tribute. At that moment, I freeze in place.

"Yvetta Simmer."

Just my luck. Sometimes, faith isn't enough. I make my way to the stage, scared half to death. I try to be as polite as possible to our escort, but it's difficult. Following our exchange, I stand solemnly next to her while she proceeds.

_Rye Vestalli (15), District 9_

I have been pacing across my living room since early this morning. Of course, it's not unusual that I'm nervous on reaping day. This year, however, I'm nervous for a different reason. You see, I'll have a little sibling pretty soon. I couldn't be more excited! I've been an only child for 15 years, and now I'll finally have a sibling. I hope nothing goes wrong. I had wanted to take my mom to a professional, but she insisted that she should have her child here. I remember when my parents first told me that they were expecting a baby. I can't believe that was a whole nine months ago. At last, my dad walks in. He is slightly blood-stained and sweaty, but he seems happy.

"Well, did everything go okay?" I ask.

"Yep. It went absolutely perfectly," he reports with pride. "Would you like to meet your new baby sister?"

I nod enthusiastically, and follow him into the bedroom. I find my exhausted mother cradling an adorable baby girl in her arms. I approach quietly, not wanting to disturb my sister.

"What's her name?" I inquire.

"Sophia," my mom says.

"That's a pretty name. Can I hold her?" I ask.

"Of course," she replies, and carefully hands her over to me.

"Hi, Sophie. I'm your big brother Rye," I say, beaming.

She smiles at me, and I smile back. I can't wait to watch her grow up. I could show her all my favorite places to hide when I was little, and we could swim together in the nearby pond. Suddenly, my fantasies are shattered by a grim realization. We won't be able to do any of that if I'm chosen for the Hunger Games. As if on cue, my dad looks at the clock.

"You'd better get going. Your mom and I should probably get cleaned up. We'll be a few minutes behind you," he says.

Luckily, I changed into my outfit for the reaping earlier. I'm out the door in a few minutes. It is only a short walk from my home to the square where the reaping is being held, and I arrive quickly. After checking in, I join the other 15 year-olds, growing more nervous by the minute. A moment later, I see my parents join the adults and young children. I wave, and they return the gesture. My eyes linger on my sister, who is wrapped in a fresh blanket. I am terrified for day 12 years from now when she will have to face the reaping for the first time.

I am forced to turn away as the reaping begins. The mayor's speech is nice enough, but I have no tolerance for the Capitol's annoying propaganda. I stiffen as our escort reaches into the bowl containing girls' names. She reads the selected name, and the girl obediently makes her way to stage. At last, it is time to select the male tribute.

"Rye Vestalli," our escort reads.

Why did it have to be this year? I have to fight off the urge to cry as I take the stage. I don't want to appear weak or cowardly. I also don't want to worry my parents even more. I politely shake hands with my partner. She appears just as upset as I feel. I wonder what she's leaving behind

_Yvetta Simmer (16), District 9_

My father seems rather calm and collected as he enters the room with my brother. This makes me even more nervous than I already am. If he appears calm, then he must be very upset. My dad is an expert at hiding his emotions, especially when he thinks it's in my best interest that I don't know how he really feels. My brother, however, has not mastered this particular skill. He runs to me in tears. I wrap him in a hug to comfort him.

"Are you going to leave me like mommy did?" he asks, his voice muffled by my dress.

"Of course not, Davey. I'll be back soon. You'll see," I say, after a moment of consideration. What else _could_ I say to that? I certainly couldn't tell him the truth. The truth, of course, being that I'll be fighting for my life, and I only have a one in twenty-five chance of surviving.

He smiles at me. I can tell that he doesn't fully believe me, but I'm sure he appreciates that I tried. He reluctantly moves off to the side so our dad can approach me.

"I'll be rooting for you, Vettie," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks, Dad," I say, hugging him tightly as I do. "Make sure Davey doesn't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"Will do," he replies.

My last few moments with my family have gone by too quickly. Dad and Davey wave to me as they walk out the door. Once they're gone, I stamp my foot in anger at the Capitol. I hate the Hunger Games. I hate that I'm being torn away from the beautiful home that I love. Most of all, I hate what this is going to do to my father and brother. They already lost a wonderful wife and mother. They can't lose me too. My mom didn't have many prized possessions, so I'm all they have to remind them of her.

That settles it. I _have _to win the Hunger Games. It's a matter of life and death.

_Rye Vestalli (15), District 9_

My parents are noticeably upset when they enter the room. Why shouldn't they be? It must be hard to say goodbye to your child on the same day you've welcomed a second child into the world. It's wonderful to see them one last time, and I greet them with hugs. For a minute, I feel like I might be able to keep my composure. But one look at little Sophie, and I feel I'm about to start crying myself.

"Don't worry. I've got something important to fight for. That gives me an edge," I say, glancing lovingly at my sister. My determination seems to a relief to my parents.

"It would get you more sponsors as well," my dad says, validating my thought.

After a brief moment, I make an important request. "Can the two of you do me a favor?"

"Anything," my mom replies.

"If I don't' come back, could you tell Sophie all about me, and how happy I was that she was born?"

"We'll make sure she knows all about her big brother," my dad assures me. "With any luck, though, we won't have to."

I nod. I kiss my tiny sister on the forehead, and say a final goodbye to my parents. As they depart, I think once more about all the things I won't be able to do with Sophie if don't make it out alive. I'll win the Hunger Games for her. It's a matter of life and death.

_Hannily Jeffers (14), District 10_

"And I don't want to see a single crumb on that floor when you're finished!" my foster mom demands as she exits the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am," I call after her. I groan, and turn to my sister Genevieve, who is working on her own chore of washing the dishes. "Will she ever give us a break?" I ask.

"What do you think?" she says, and shakes her head. "Never." I roll my eyes in agreement, and begin sweeping the kitchen floor.

Our lives weren't always like this. We once had two loving, wonderful parents. Things took a turn for the worst when I was 9 and Genevieve was 7. It all started when our father drowned trying to save a lamb that had been trying to swim in a deep lake. Without my dad's income, providing for the three of us became more difficult for my mother. Being the caring person she was, she always saved the best food for her daughters. Without the essential nutrients her body needed, my mom became ill and died two years later. Being only 11, I was scared and unsure what to do. My sister and I survived on our own for almost a year before we were discovered by some kind-hearted Peacekeepers. After talking to the local families they knew, they decided that Mrs. Chambers would be a suitable foster mother. She had just lost her husband, and I felt sorry for her. I also felt sympathy for her daughter. At the time, I thought she really cared about us, but I've learned differently since then. She didn't see two new daughters. She saw two new maids. It's hard to believe that it's been two whole years.

My thoughts are interrupted by someone calling us from the front room. "Hannily! Genevieve! It's time to go to the reaping," Amanda Chambers, who I wouldn't call my sister even if she let me, informs us. She's a year older than me, and has resented the both of us since we arrived.

"Ready to go, Genny?" I ask my sister.

"Yep," she says, hopping down from her stool in front of the sink.

Having changed before lunch, we were ready to be on our way. As we leave the house, I toss a handful of mealworms to the family chickens. During the walk to the reaping, I can't help but feel nervous for my sister. She is now 12, and this is her first reaping. No matter the odds, it's a frightening experience.

"Hannily, I'm scared," Genevieve says as we walk.

"Don't be, Genny," I reply, rubbing her back. "You'll make it through your first year. I can feel it."

When we arrive at the reaping, I show my sister how to check in, and point her in the direction of the other 12 year-olds. I then join my own group, and the reaping begins. I spend most of the time staring intently at Genny, as if keeping her in sight will prevent her from being taken away from me. Before I know it, it's time for the first tribute to be selected.

"Ladies first," our tribute says. She reaches into the bowl, and pulls out a name. "Genevieve Jeffers."

That can't happen! My frail little sister wouldn't last a minute in the arena. At that moment, I make a bold decision.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I yell, raising my hand.

Genevieve tries to protest, but is held back by Mrs. Chambers. The crowd parts, and I make my way to the stage. Once there, I am greeted by our escort.

"What's your name, dear?" she asks me.

"Hannily Jeffers," I reply.

"Well! That must have been your sister, then. You're very brave to volunteer for her," she says excitedly. "Now, let's move on to the boys, shall we?"

As our escort makes her way to select the next tribute, I search for my sister in the crowd. When I find her, I wish I hadn't. One look at her tear-stained face tells me that I've broken her heart.

_Damien Genova (16), District 10_

I like to think that I hate the Hunger Games more than anyone else in Panem. Why? Because the Hunger Games are responsible for my sister's death. Her name was Lillian, and she was the best little sister a guy could ask for. She was sweet, caring, and helpful. She never failed to look on the bright side of a situation, and always knew what to say to make me feel better when I was sad. She was only 12. She didn't belong in that arena, yet that's where her life ended. Things just haven't been the same since I watched her die in the 99th Annual Hunger Games.

I remember all the emotions I felt last year. I remember the intense fear I felt when her name was called at the reaping. Then, I felt pride when it was announced that she received a decent score in training. I felt relief when she met some allies who agreed to help her in the arena. Finally, I remember quite vividly the uncontrollable anger I felt when she was coldly betrayed by those allies. My parents and I didn't eat or sleep for almost two days after that. I made a promise to myself that if I should ever find myself in the Hunger Games, I would avenge Lily's untimely death.

Now, a year later, I stand at the reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. The frightened faces of the other children fill me with dread as the reaping begins. I become even less tolerant of the Capitol's mindless propaganda since Lily's death. How can they possibly see any value in the murder of children? My fists clench when our escort announces the selection of the female tribute. A 12 year-old, who reminds me of my sister, is chosen. I am touched when her older sister volunteers for her. If only I could have done the same for Lily. With the female tribute chosen, it's time to select the male tribute. I breathe deeply as our escort grabs a slip of paper, trying to calm myself.

"Damien Genova."

It's me! As terrified as I am, I can't help but be a bit glad that I have a chance to avenge my sister's death. It allows me to mount the stage with confidence. I try to be polite as I greet our escort.

"Alright. Shake hands, you two," she requests.

I extend my hand to my partner, and she shakes it. She seems like a sweet girl. It's a shame that she'll be fighting for her life.

_Hannily Jeffers (14), District 10_

This may seem strange, but I actually feel guilty about volunteering. Part of me feels like I was only partially concerned with Genny's safety. Maybe that was just an excuse to take this opportunity to escape my life. I am getting sick and tired of being ordered around by Mrs. Chambers. But do I hate my life enough to let it end so soon? I try to shake off the thought. My sister is safe, and that's what's important. Just in time, too. My sister bursts into the room, and wraps me in a tight hug.

"You can't go, Hannily! I'll be alone," she says between sobs.

"But you won't be alone. You'll have Amanda and Mrs. Chambers," I assure her.

"They don't care about us. You know that," she reminds me. "I _can't_ lose you, Hannily."

When she said that, I felt tears begin to build behind my eyes. I realize that she's right. Genevieve has already lost her father and mother. Losing her sister as well would be too much. Someone as young as her shouldn't have to go through that.

"I'm sorry this happened, Genny. I just couldn't let you go into that arena," I say, squeezing her tighter. "I'll do my best. I'll win for you."

I'm surprised to notice Mrs. Chambers entering the room. She approaches us and says, "It's time to go, Genevieve."

She grabs Genny's wrist gently. She the other hand on my shoulder, and gives me a consoling look. I manage to smile back. Maybe she does care after all. The two of them exit the room, and I am alone. As I think about my conversation with my sister, my resolve strengthens. No more selfish thoughts about escaping Mrs. Chambers. I'll do anything if it means being Genevieve. For this reason, I am determined to win. It's a matter of life or death.

_Damien Genova (16), District 10_

My parents are understandably frightened. It's hard enough losing one child to the Hunger Games. Losing two must be unbearable. Of course, that's assuming I won't survive. I can't think like that if I'm going to stand a chance in the arena.

"I suppose you could learn from Lily's mistakes," my dad says, gravely. "Don't trust anyone."

"I suppose that's good advice, considering what happened," I agree. "You never know who might turn against you."

I see that tears have begun trickling down my mother's face again. I try to comfort her. "There's no need for that, Mom," I insist. "I can do this."

"That's what your sister said," she replies.

I frown, but continue my attempt at consoling her. "There's a difference. Lily didn't have my determination."

"That's true," she says. "But don't let your obsession with revenge cloud your judgment, Damien. You shouldn't be reckless with your own safety. Not only that, but not everyone is as heartless as you have come to believe." She is absolutely right about that.

"I won't," I say. "I don't want to become some cold-blooded killer. I'll get my revenge, then focus on survival."

She nods. I hug both of them once more before they have to leave. The conversation isn't over yet, however. It seems that my father has one last thing to say to me.

"One more thing, Damien," he says, stopping short in the doorway. "Whatever you do, make the District 5 tributes pay."

**Finally! Another chapter. Is there an award for the worst updater ever? If there is, I'd win it for sure. Please believe that I love this story, and will see it through to its end. No matter how long that may take. Luckily, I have a weekend writing plan that should allow me to update next Sunday. Stay tuned! Anyway, on to the chapter. First of all, I know Rye is kind of an overused name. Please don't write nasty reviews about it, or let it hinder your enjoyment of the story. Second of all, I hope you all love Hannily as much as do. **** She's probably my favorite tribute I created. Of course, it's not like her story has never been seen before. It's sort of a combination of Cinderella, Annie, and Katniss. :)**

** I won't be doing individual shout-outs this chapter. **** It's been so long that I don't know what's new and what's old, and I didn't want to waste another minute figuring it out. So, here's a general shout-out. Thank you so much to anyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed since my last update! It's much appreciated!**

** See you next time, my fabulous readers!**


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